


Ye Olde Frag Club Meets Again

by ladydragon76



Series: Ye Olde [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Genre: PWP, KINK: BDSM, KINK: D/s, KINK: bondage, M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, character: cyclonus, character: kup, character: megatron, character: optimus prime, character: ratchet, character: rodimus, character: rung, kink: exhibitionism, kink: orgy, kink: voyeurism, smut: sticky, verse: idw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> The old mechs finally have another chance to get together, and they’ve invited some others to join in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ye Olde Frag Club Meets Again

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** Ye Olde  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Ratchet/Rung/Kup/Cyclonus/Megatron/Optimus Prime, Rodimus  
>  **Warnings:** Sticky, Transformers Tetris, BDSM, Bondage,  
>  **Notes:** Iopele and Buggu are the main bunneh-launchers for this one, but the peanut gallery sure chimed in plenty too. ^_^ (That’s not a complaint)

Ratchet sighed and rolled over to his front, the sparring room mat rather comfortable and supportive. He gave a languorous stretch. Round one had been decidedly pleasant, and Kup was still flopped out on his back, chewing his cygar as he stared at the ceiling. Fragger had won this time, and if asked, Ratchet was absolutely saying that he let him. It’d be just mean to pound such a relic after all, right?

Yep. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Blue optics landed on Rung and Cyclonus, the two smiling as they enjoyed a few energon sticks where they sat at the edge of the mats. Rung with his bright, open grin, and Cyclonus with his softer expression. Mech rarely _smiled_ , but once Ratchet got to know him, he was able to more easily spot the old warrior’s version of a smile. Slight curve on one corner of his mouth, optics glowing a little more brightly, but not the same sharp light as when Cyclonus was alert to something. His face softened. Ratchet grinned back at them and wiggled his fingers in a playful wave.

Hm… He should crawl over there and kiss that slight curve at the corner of Cyclonus’ mouth, Ratchet thought. Action was put to thought, but before Ratchet managed to push himself up even as far as his hands and knees, the door locks beeped.

“My apologies for being tardy,” Megatron said as he entered, the door shutting behind him. Red optics swept through the room, and he paused for a moment, clearly catching the scent of ozone and lubricant.

“Missed the first show, kid,” Kup said as he sat up. “Just in time for round two though.”

Megatron crossed to the mats and even smirked a little. “I had to lose a rather nosy and determined co-captain.” He knelt, knees on the edge of the mats and hands on his thighs.

Stiff, Ratchet thought and grinned. They were always so stiff and formal the first time. He'd be sure to frag that right out of the mech if no one else did.

“Rodimus can be quite determined,” Rung put in. “Perhaps we should have considered a different venue for this?”

Megatron waved a hand. “He was distracted by a shuttle arriving, and I took a circuitous route. He should be unaware of my destination.” He glanced around them again, and Ratchet suppressed the desire to snicker at the clear nervousness. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“We are glad you chose to attend,” Rung replied and held out the container of treats. “Energon stick?”

Megatron’s face blanked. “I cannot.”

“Sure ya can,” Kup said. “Gonna need more energy today.”

Ratchet pushed himself to his feet and took a cube of regular energon from his subspace. “Kup’s right.” He held out the nutrition grade to Megatron and watched the hesitation, aware of how tightly clamped Megatron’s field was. “It’s not a trick or a trap, Megatron. You will absolutely need this today.”

Still Megatron hesitated, and Ratchet figured that counted in the plus column for the mech, but he really would need actual energon.

“As a medic, I am prescribing this cube and any energon goodies you want for today, and only today, only for as long as you are here with us,” Ratchet said, using his ‘I’m the CMO, obey me’ tone.

Rung stood as well and came over, squatting beside Megatron to lay a hand on his wrist. “You don’t have to, of course,” he began. “If it makes you more uncomfortable suspecting some ulterior motive, or if you’re concerned this will count against you, then we will not offer more. However, I must agree with Ratchet’s diagnosis. You will very likely need more energon, and we are aware that your rations are doled out in allotments so you do not have extra on you at this time.”

“You can leave at any time to get your rations too, if you want,” Ratchet said, helm tilting a bit as he looked at Megatron’s face, trying to read him. “I don’t want you passing out on me though.”

Megatron considered for another moment, both Kup and -possibly more importantly- Cyclonus giving nods of encouragement. The cube was lifted from Ratchet’s hand, then a single energon stick was drawn from Rung’s container. “Thank you,” Megatron murmured.

Ratchet snorted, wanting to disperse the serious air that had taken over. “Please, this is not altruism. I’ve heard rumors, and I want a ride.” To be even more blatant, the Medic let his gaze slide down Megatron’s chest and rest on that impressive panel covering the former tyrant’s array. He smirked, then flicked his optics back up. “In a few minutes though. Cyclonus has a corner of his mouth that requires a closer inspection.”

Two pairs of red optics went round, and Rung snickered as Ratchet crossed to Cyclonus for that kiss.

“Come over here and sit, kid,” Kup said, presumably to Megatron, but Ratchet was too busy to look.

Kissing Cyclonus, as the medic had learned last time, was exceedingly pleasant. He could be hard and passionate, but he started slow and warm. His arms wound around Ratchet’s middle and eased him in close, into his lap. Ratchet smirked as he settled himself and tipped his helm to lick out. He traced Cyclonus’ lower lip and the corner he ended up at angled up just a micron more. The medic purred, arousal beginning to kindle again through his lines.

“How does this… work?” Megatron asked. “Do we take turns?”

Kup chuckled, and Ratchet grinned into his kiss with Cyclonus. It was a familiar question.

“We do whatever- _who_ ever we want,” Kup said. “No pressure.” The door chimed, drawing everyone’s attention, though Kup continued, “Whole lotta fun though. Didn’t ya give him the access code?” he asked as Ratchet reluctantly dragged himself out of Cyclonus’ lap and stood.

“No. Didn’t want anyone clever in comms getting it.” Ratchet flashed the group a grin as he moved toward the door.

“Who is it?” Rung asked, sitting forward a bit. “Neither of you mentioned anyone else coming.”

Ratchet glanced back as he keyed in his code, but Rung just looked curious. Cyclonus had his helm tipped, and Megatron looked confused. With a smirk, the medic turned back to the door as it slid aside. “Hey, Optimus!” He grabbed the Prime’s wrist and tugged him in, then quickly relocked the door.

“Hello, Ratchet. Hello… uh… everyone.” Optimus’ field flared in confusion as the others called out greetings.

Megatron’s sounded last and was a brief, dignified, “Prime,” though his optics had gone wide.

“Kup and I thought it’d be good to invite Optimus since he’s onboard anyway,” Ratchet said with a bright grin.

“Yeah. Pretty young for the Old Farts Club, but old enough in spark,” Kup added with a chuckle. “Figured it’d give ya both the chance to finally pounce each other the way ya been wantin’ for so long.”

Megatron and Optimus both stared at Kup, sputtering, and a shocking patch of hot pink appeared high on either of the former tyrant’s cheeks. Well. That was cute. Ratchet snickered as he glanced at their other two members. Cyclonus caught his optic and dipped his chin a micron. Rung nodded as well, one of those shrewd, considering looks beginning to take over his face.

“You don’t have to,” Ratchet said as he turned back. “No one has to. Either or both of you can go or stay as you like. No fuss, no muss. We,” he gestured to the others with a small wave of his hand, “do this purely for fun.”

“Old mechs that understand and appreciate the chance to relax and enjoy themselves,” Megatron said, repeating what Rung had told him when he was invited. “No masks or facades.”

“Right,” Kup put in. “But if ya’re goin’, best ta head on out now.”

Megatron tensed like he’d been issued a challenge. “I’ll stay,” he _almost_ growled. Oh yeah, he’d taken it as a challenge. Which meant-

“I see no reason to leave,” Optimus replied.

Ratchet snickered again, and figured he’d give them both one more out- or push toward each other. Contrary bastards. “Ok. If you change your minds though, just say something. And hey, it’s not like you have to touch each other anyway. There’s six of us here.” He turned his back and returned to Cyclonus lap, deep, mischievous smirk in place. Cyclonus’ hands gripped the medic’s waist and pulled him in, and once his expression was blocked by Ratchet’s bulk, gave his own conspiratorial grin. Ratchet couldn’t possibly resist kissing it.

“Perhaps a spar?” Rung suggested. “Ratchet and Kup often enjoy a tussle to work out their… enthusiasms.”

Ratchet aimed a thumbs-up in Rung’s general direction without breaking the melting kiss that was pouring heated oil through his lines. Cyclonus purred, the bass, rolling vibrations pulled a low moan from Ratchet. Pits, yes. Slag the others, he had what he wanted right here for the moment. Sharp talons dipped into Ratchet’s transformation seams and traced tingling lines over sensitive cabling. Ratchet could give as good as he got, however, and lifted a hand to play with the base of one of those horns on Cyclonus’ helm. He hadn’t realized just how sensor-rich that area was before, and Cyclonus’ reaction was both startling and welcome.

Ratchet grunted from the impact of his back to the mats, Cyclonus rolling over him and between his legs all in a single smooth movement. There was a loud _clang_ that matched Cyclonus bucking his hips down against Ratchet’s, but it was far louder than it should have been. They both paused, and Ratchet laughed at the equally startled expression staring down at him.

There was a growl from Optimus -Ratchet would recognize that sound anywhere after all their days on a battlefield together- and an answering snarl from Megatron.

“Heh. Oughta watch this,” Kup said as he took a seat beside the medic and Cyclonus.

Lust pushed aside for the moment by curiosity, both Cyclonus and Ratchet sat up and turned to watch Megatron and Optimus dance around each other in the middle of the mats.

“I have, of course, seen footage of their battles before,” Rung said, his hands clutched together under his chin, torso leaning forward. “This is very exciting.” An understatement if the glow of his optics was any indication.

Optimus threw a punch, wide and telegraphed, and Megatron caught his fist and threw him back with a huff of clear irritation. “Don’t,” he growled, then launched straight into another attack.

Optimus was pushed into a purely defensive position until he got a good shot in on Megatron’s abdomen. Megatron stumbled back with a hellish smile.

“Much better.”

“Shut up,” Optimus snapped and threw himself forward once more.

“It’s for _fun_ , you glitches!” Ratchet shouted at them as they both connected solid hits. “I’m _not_ repairing either of you, you hear me?”

“Yes, Ratchet,” both Optimus and Megatron intoned together. It could have been scripted, the slaggers.

Ratchet glared. “I swear I’ll leave you both to suffer and bleed!”

Rung reached past Cyclonus to pat Ratchet’s arm. “They’ll be fine,” he said, voice a little breathless. “This is cathartic, I think.” He flashed that coy little smile of his, then turned his gaze back to the two now locked, hand to hand, weight pushing against the other.

“Cathartic for you,” Ratchet muttered. Cyclonus chuckled and shifted in closer to Ratchet.

“Get yer foot back, Optimus!” Kup called. “Ain’t never gonna drop him without more leverage. Primus, Megatron! Thought ya were a gladiator? Neither of ya goin’ anywhere like that. Know ya both know how ta break that stance.”

Optimus’ mask retracted with an audible _snikt_. In the same instant, he stopped pushing, letting Megatron lurch forward. Ratchet shook his helm as what looked way more like a bite than a kiss made the silver mech stumble. There was muffled thump-

Wait.

Ratchet shot to his feet in the same instant as Kup. They shared a look even as Megatron and Optimus tumbled to the mats, tangled with each other and oblivious to the sound that didn’t come from them.

“Thought I saw ya lock the controls out,” Kup said as they rushed to the door.

“I did,” Ratchet replied as he jabbed his fingers at the keypad, his spark racing, but anger rising too. There was only one person not already in the sparring room that could override his lockout codes.

Rodimus smirked, hands on canted hips as the door slid aside. “So what’s going on here?” he asked, and Ratchet figured the kid probably thought he sounded sly.

The medic turned to share a look with Kup. “You fix the window’s shield so we’ve got our privacy back,” Kup said, then his hands shot out and snatched Rodimus by the shoulders. “Got us a spy, mechs,” Kup shouted.

Ratchet reset the window into the sparring room so it was opaque both ways, then locked out the system again. On a whim, he grabbed a chair and dragged it back into the room behind him. Door secured -again- the medic swung the chair around and let it clang on the floor loud enough to grab even Megatron and Optimus’ attention. They were frozen for a moment, but then Megatron scrambled back, and Optimus sat up.

“Like the way ya think, Ratch.” Kup hauled a laughing Rodimus to the chair and threw his aft into it. “Not sure why ya’re laughin’, brat. Ya weren’t invited, and I’m not sure I’m feelin’ welcomin’.”

Something in Kup’s tone must have registered, because Rodimus stilled, though his smile barely faded. “Aw come on, Kup. All this sneaking around? You didn’t think I’d want to check out what’s going on in my own ship?”

Ratchet snorted, but before he could speak, Rung caught his attention and showed him a length of rope. Primus bless Rung’s kinky little spark. Ratchet smiled and nodded, but then quickly schooled his features back to annoyance. The brat wanted in? Ok.

“There are conditions to being here,” Ratchet said, planting a heavy hand on Rodimus’ shoulder. He met Kup’s _look_ and tilted his helm to the approaching Rung. “We’ll let you leave right now, but you have to _leave_. No overriding the observation window again. This is private, and if you aren’t in this room, you’re not welcome to watch.”

“Hell no! I’ll stay.” The expected answer, and Rodimus turned his head to beam a smile up at Ratchet. Poor kid had no idea what he was in for. Ratchet returned the smile and took sadistic glee in the way Rodimus’ faded at the edges.

“If you stay, then you stay in this chair. You don’t touch anyone or yourself. You don’t speak,” Ratchet said, slipping a little into a dominant headspace. It shifted his tone enough for Kup and Rung, and even Optimus, to pick up on it. “Understand?”

“Yeah. Yes, I understand.” Rodimus held out his hands, then crossed his arms and slouched in the seat. “You guys carry on. Pretend I’m not even here.”

Kup snorted a laugh and shook his head. “Sure, kid. Ya got this then, Ratch?”

“I sure do,” Ratchet said with a purr as he watched Rung begin laying out the ropes and binders and- Oh bless his little bespectacled face! A gag.

“They’re all clean, of course,” Rung offered with a frelling _innocent_ smile. “Just call to me if you require any assistance.”

Ratchet could smell the lust on him. “I will.”

“Gonna tie me up, Ratch?” Rodimus asked with a laugh.

Face dropping into a serious and stern expression, Ratchet answered, “If I need to. Now sit still and shut up.” He turned his attention to Megatron and Optimus and gave them a wave to continue.

Megatron hesitated a fraction of a second in doubt, and Optimus tackled him from his knees. Ratchet had seen them grapple like this a thousand times, and an old fear pushed up under his spark until Megatron grabbed a handful of Optimus’ aft and bucked his hips up.

“That’s how ya do it, kid!” Kup cheered. Then, continuing his theme of egging them both on, he shouted, “Gonna let that stand, Prime? Come on, ya already got him under ya and pantin’!”

“Get to it, or I’ll come show you how it’s done!” Rodimus called out, half rising from the chair.

Ratchet shoved him back down with a firm hand to the top of Rodimus’ helm, then bent to pick up the gag. It was a simple bit style band that tied behind the head, and the medic ran it through his hands while staring the young captain down. “You are exactly the reason we do this in secret,” he said in a low tone.

Rodimus blinked, his field flaring with hurt before he stuck his lower lip out in an affected pout. “That’s mean.”

“No,” Ratchet replied, still pitching his voice so only Rodimus could hear. “It’s a fact. We’re all old, wear careful public faces, maintain a particular reputation for various reasons.” He paused, helm tilting as he considered. “I’m fairly sure you actually understand that concept on a personal level, but the point of our little get-togethers is so we can drop those facades. Rung isn’t a psychologist. I’m not a medic. Cyclonus smiles. Kup…” He chuckled. “Kup is Kup.” That was enough, he wasn’t going to try to explain it all clearly, especially not for the others and not to Rodimus.

Rodimus turned his gaze out to where Megatron and Optimus rolled and wrestled, now both grinning. Ratchet couldn’t hear it all, but he caught enough quiet words to know they were trash talking one another again, though there was a purring rumble to Optimus’ tone never applied on the battlefield. Megatron was _teasing_ , fighting just enough to keep Prime from winning, but clearly willing to let him eventually. And Prime knew it.

“I get ‘facing to blow off steam, you know,” Rodimus said, mouth still drawn. “I’m not stupid.”

“That’s up for debate,” Ratchet shot back. “I can promise you, that if you are stupid enough to talk about this to _anyone_ ever outside this room, I will make your life a living hell. If you’ve already grabbed image captures, delete them. Right now.”

“I didn’t!”

“Hush,” Ratchet hissed, hand tightening on the gag. “Then don’t. I’m fragged enough that you decided to spy on us to start with. This is none of your business. We’d never have invited you, but keeping you here to make sure you understand is better than tossing you out to ruin everything.”

Rodimus’ jaw dropped. “I wouldn’t-”

Ratchet leaned down so his face was close to Rodimus’ and cut him off. “Wouldn’t what? Tell everyone that you just saw Optimus kiss Megatron? Wouldn’t run your mouth and have half a dozen other voyeurs we never gave _consent_ to watching us, pressing their faces to the window?”

Bright blue optics dulled a little, and Rodimus’ pout softened to something that could be construed as comprehension. “I’ll leave,” he said softly, and met Ratchet’s optics with his own. “And I won’t breathe a word to anyone. Promise.”

Ratchet glanced at the others. Rung was in Cyclonus lap, back to the purple chest plating. Kup was right beside them, hand on Cyclonus’ knee as the three watched Optimus and Megatron _really_ kiss. Tossing Rodimus out now would cause another disruption, and Ratchet himself knew he wasn’t entirely capable of trusting the mech not to talk. Not yet, though he did think Rodimus understood.

“No,” Ratchet said slowly and straightened. He knew the exact moment Optimus slid home. Megatron’s back arched and his legs drew higher over Prime’s hips. “You can stay and follow the rules you were given.”

“Are they… Oh frag me,” Rodimus whimpered as Optimus’ aft lifted and dropped with obvious rhythm and Megatron’s moan filled the room. “You know,” he said, and Ratchet glanced down to see a cheeky grin aimed at him. “Maybe I do need tied to this chair?”

Ratchet flashed his most unholy grin at Rodimus, then bent to set down the gag and lift the ropes. “Stop means stop today.”

“What?”

“If you need me to really let you out of the bindings, then you say ‘stop’,” Ratchet explained. “Begging and whining won’t do it. It’s gotta be, ‘stop, Ratchet’, understand?”

Rodimus’ optics lit, and then he grinned too and laced his fingers together behind the chair. “Ok. Got it.”

Ratchet snorted and shook his helm, then he grabbed Rodimus’ arms and rearranged him. It took a few different loops to tie the co-captain up, but Ratchet had worked with all kinds of kibble, and this wasn’t for looking pretty but to keep Rodimus’ aft in the chair. Ok, maybe the medic tied some knots over a handful or so node clusters that would only egg on Rodimus’ arousal once he got genuinely revved, but it was still secure.

When he was done, he stepped back to check his handiwork and grinned. Rodimus’ arms were bound behind his back and were tied to the chair to keep him leaning back into it. His ankles were bound to the chair’s legs, and a line wound up to either thigh before being tied to the seat. It forced Rodimus’ legs wide open and his aft to the edge of the seat. He was in the perfect position for anyone that wanted to use his spike or valve, though for now his panel was shut.

That wouldn’t last, Ratchet knew, especially as a resounding _smack_ sounded from behind the medic.

Rung was draped over Cyclonus’ lap, his wrists caught in Kup’s hands. “Aw com’on, Cyc! Ya can smack him harder than that.”

“I am merely warming up.” Cyclonus brought his hand down on Rung’s aft again, and Ratchet parked his own on the mat, content to watch the shows for a while.

Even Optimus turned his helm to look before Megatron growled, gripped his head, and pulled him back into a kiss. Ratchet thought he caught the tone of a threat before Optimus began to thrust again. Honestly, he wasn’t sure who he wanted to watch more. He probably looked like he was viewing a tennis match, the medic thought.

“So that’s kinky,” Rodimus said.

“I could do the same to you,” Cyclonus replied. His hand fell, heavy and broad, to Rung’s aft. This time the smaller mech jerked and cried out. “But only if you behave.”

“Bummer. Ratch has me all tied up right now.”

“I have a gag,” Ratchet said and turned to give Rodimus a stern look. “Hush.” He turned back just in time to see Optimus lace his fingers with Megatron’s, palm to palm, hips rolling in a way that made the medic’s array thrum and heat. He had been distracted from it, but his own arousal still hummed just under the surface.

“Beat ‘im, Cyc,” Kup encouraged. “Know he wants it. S’why he’s got me here holdin’ him in place.”

“Please!” Rung cried, aft wriggling.

Cyclonus pressed Rung down with a hand to the center of his back. “Begging is nice,” he said, then delivered a series of lightning-fast spanks to Rung’s aft.

Ratchet ran an instinctive scan before catching himself, but Rung was completely fine. One large, silver hand rubbed over Rung’s plating to soothe the sting, then abruptly smacked him again. One to the back of Rung’s thigh, right up by the joint, making the smaller mech shout. The next fell right on his aft, the one after that on the back of the other thigh. Cyclonus was… _good_ at spanking, and Ratchet shifted as his spike began to push against the inside of his array cover.

“Ratchet?”

“Want to stop?” Ratchet asked without taking his gaze off of Rung. The mech writhed and yelped, and Cyclonus had gone from stinging smacks to rapid strikes. His own aft warmed in memory of his own last spanking from ages ago. Bluestreak was a demon. It might be worth it to ask Cyclonus for a private session one day.

“No,” Rodimus replied. “I just-”

“Then shut up,” Ratchet interrupted.

There was a sigh, then Rodimus grumbled something. Ratchet heard the telltale click of a panel retracting but ignored it for now. Watching Rung squirm, his arms tugging uselessly against Kup’s hold while he began to wail, was far more interesting that whatever Rodimus had on display.

Cyclonus pushed one of Rung’s legs off his lap then aimed the next blow right at the orange panel. Rung’s back arched, voice arcing into a wavering scream. He dropped back down, tense and shaking like a bow string.

“Please! Oh please, Cyclonus! Please, oh please oh please oh- _Oh_!” Rung yelped, then keened as another set of rapid-fire spanks heated his aft and thighs.

Cyclonus settled into a clear rhythm just long enough for Rung to begin expecting it, then broke it with a slow, firm rub over that burning hot panel. It retracted with a _snap_ , lubricant pouring out. Cyclonus traced the very rim of Rung’s valve with a single clawtip, then went back to delivering ringing blows all over the mech’s aft.

Ratchet gave up trying to keep his own panel shut and palmed his spike for a little relief. Rung begged between desperate cries and sharp gasps, his body twisting and struggling, feet alternately kicking against the mat and pushing against it to get his aft higher.

“Are you sure you want this?” Cyclonus asked, thumb gliding down the back of one of Rung’s thighs.

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!” Rung chanted, trying to push his aft up and spread his legs more.

“As you wish.” Cyclonus cracked Rung’s aft, thigh, then brought his hand down against the bared and shining array.

Rung convulsed, and his scream broke with a squelch of feedback when his vocalizer glitched. Cyclonus pushed a pair of fingers into Rung’s valve, thrusting deep to help carry the mech through his overload.

Rung’s sudden silence allowed the lower, deeper sounds from the other pair to be heard again, and Ratchet bit his lip against a moan as his hand involuntarily tightened on his spike. As if watching Rung wasn’t enough to melt struts, he had Optimus with his face buried in Megatron’s neck, hips grinding in slow. Megatron’s helm was thrown back, optics squeezed shut and face tense. His hands were pinned to the mats by Optimus’ own, and his thighs visibly shook where they clamped to white hips.

“Ratchet…” Rodimus whined.

Ratchet leaned back on a hand so the mech could see him stroking his own spike- something Rodimus was incapable of at the moment.

“I…” The chair creaked as Rodimus squirmed.

Ratchet didn’t even need to look to know. He could feel the need and heat coming off the mech a couple steps behind him. Like Rodimus was deliberately trying to reach for him with just his energy field.

In the middle of the mats, Optimus picked up the pace, and Ratchet was all but certain both of them had forgotten they weren’t alone. Megatron was mostly quiet, but his mouth moved, shaping words that Ratchet wasn’t interested in understanding. He listened to Rodimus whimper again as Kup pushed Cyclonus to his back and straddled his waist. Rung rested on his front, helm turned away from Ratchet and presumably watching as Kup settled himself in for a ride.

“Please?” Rodimus whispered. “Ratchet, please?”

Ratchet ignored him, or rather, let Rodimus think he did. He dipped a finger down, circling his own valve and playing in the slickness of lubricant as he watched Megatron’s mouth open and his back arch into a rather graceful curve. A low moan rolled forth, growing in volume until it was a roar that nearly drowned out Optimus’ shout. Ratchet clenched his jaw and carefully pulled his fingers out of his valve before the buzz of heat shimmering through his lines could intensify.

“Ratchet…” Rodimus sounded just about ready, the medic thought.

Ratchet turned his helm, optics ridges lifting questioningly. Like Pit would _he_ be the one asking for it.

Rodimus squirmed, making the chair creak again. “Please?” he begged. “Please? I can’t take it anymore, it hurts.”

“What are you asking me?” Ratchet pushed himself to his knees and sat back on his heels, array bared in a way that only _looked_ careless and unconscious. Rodimus’ optics dropped, and he licked his lips, hungry and aching, field pulsating. A kinder mech might have chosen to help him without the words, but Ratchet was rather sadistic as a top.

“To frag me! Spike me, ride mine, suck me off or clean me out. I don’t care! I need it!”

Ratchet smirked as he stood, tempted to make Rodimus beg more, but he was ready himself. Plus as heated as Rodimus was, he likely wouldn’t last too long. Ratchet wanted to share that overload. He lifted one leg over Rodimus’, hands braced on bright orange shoulders.

“Overload without pleasing me, and you’ll sit here to suffer until I forgive you,” Ratchet threatened and swung his other leg into place so he could sit in Rodimus’ lap. He fought against a shiver of need and glared down at Rodimus’ pleading face. “We planned to go all night, and there are five other mechs more than willing to fuck me well. Got it?”

It was amazing nothing rattled with how hard Rodimus nodded.

Ratchet angled his hips and pressed himself down on a _very_ fancy spike. Maybe later, if Rodimus was really well-behaved, he’d see how all those etchings and bio lights tasted. Maybe. They certainly felt nice sliding into his valve.

Sensor nodes lit and that charge that had been building rushed across circuits and blazed through Ratchet’s lines. Rodimus moaned with him. Ratchet peeled his optics back open, smirking down at the shaking, gasping mech as he lift-rolled, then dropped back down.

“Nnggh… Oh, that’s nice,” Ratchet crooned and did it again before just swiveling his hips in a few hitched circles. Rodimus’ spike stirred over the nodes, and Ratchet laced his fingers behind the mech’s neck so he could lean back and get just a little more depth. “So nice,” he whispered.

“Ratch…”

“Show me you’re actually capable of control, Rodimus,” Ratchet purred as he let his optics fall shut.

“Could do better if I had my hands free,” Rodimus said, but the words hitched as his vents caught, the sentence a needy whine instead of purring and sexy.

“Are you asking me to stop?” Ratchet reminded, but he didn’t stop moving. There was a ridge or… something on Rodimus spike and it was rubbing just so over a cluster of nodes about four calipers deep. Ratchet rolled his hips again, feet curling up as he tried to press down more onto Rodimus.

“No!” Rodimus gasped. “Don’t you fragging dare!”

Ratchet rocked just a bit harder, gasping as well, then moaning as Rodimus bucked up into him. Alright. Enough playing. He opened his optics and grinned. “Ready then?”

“This vorn,” Rodimus growled, gritting his teeth and bucking up as best he could again.

Ratchet grinned, then lifted and dropped, valve squeezing in as tight as he could so as many nodes as possible would be in contact with Rodimus’ spike. They found their own pace, Rodimus thrusting every few grinding twists of Ratchet’s pelvis.

“Oh frag yeah,” Rodimus moaned. “Come on. Come on.”

Ratchet let himself sink into it, chasing his release harder as the charge swelled up through his belly and licked at his spark. A few more thrusts. Just a little…

Ratchet wound his hips around and dropped his aft, and Rodimus jerked beneath him, crying out with his helm flung back. Liquid heat washed over Ratchet’s valve lining, and he could swear he felt a last spurt, but then ecstasy finally rushed him too. He pulled his knees up and out, back curving to take Rodimus as deep as possible, then ground their arrays together so his anterior node cluster was stimulated too.

Ratchet cursed, gyros spinning and fans roaring as the grip of overload eased after such a nice high. He rocked once more, body jolting as he was caught between it feeling good and being too much, then leaned forward to rest again Rodimus’ shoulders.

“That was fragging amazing,” Rodimus groaned, a low purr rumbling in his chest. “Slag me.” He snickered. “So hey! Was I good enough? Do I get untied now?”

Ratchet inhaled deeply and heaved a sigh before lifting himself from Rodimus’ lap. He turned to face the others. “Thoughts, everyone?”

Megatron smirked from where he lay draped along Optimus. “I say leave him to suffer. You were too kind.”

“I second,” Optimus said and produced a pout. “I feel betrayed that he followed me here to spy on us.”

Ratchet snickered and waved a hand at Kup for his opinion.

“Let ‘im loose,” Kup answered. “Can’t really train him if he’s just stuck in a chair all day and all night.”

“I agree,” Rung offered. “Besides, there are other ways to bind a mech than to a chair.”

“I like the way you think,” Ratchet said with a laugh. “Cyclonus?”

Cyclonus was quiet for a moment, helm tilted just a little to the side. “He is rather too young.”

“No!” Rodimus shouted, the whole chair bouncing and he tried to stand despite the ropes. “I mean. I can totally learn. This is learning from the best right here, right? I’m a fast learner.” He gave Ratchet a pleading look. “I pleased you, right?”

“True~” Ratchet tapped a finger against his lip and arched an optic ridge at Cyclonus. “Though I think we all need to be in agreement.”

Rodimus’ mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, but then he faced Optimus. “I shouldn’t have followed you, but I’m not sorry. I’d have missed this, and ok, yeah, you guys never would have invited me, and I was wrong for spying, but I can’t be sorry, I’m not. _But_! I can make it up to you.” He glanced up at Ratchet. “Same rule. If I really don’t want it, I’ll say stop, but otherwise you guys can all just tell me what to do and how to do it, and I will, and it’ll be amazing. _I’ll_ be amazing for you all. I _swear_!”

Ratchet’s lips twitched and he looked away to face the others before he burst out laughing.

Cyclonus nodded. “If Megatron and Optimus are swayed, then I agree as well. Rodimus may stay.”

Optimus and Megatron shared a glance, and Ratchet was positive there was a conversation happening over the comms. After a few silent, tense minutes, Optimus sighed and nodded.

Megatron smirked and sat up with a wave at Ratchet. “Untie the glitch. Optimus and I have an idea for his second lesson.”

Ratchet laughed and untied Rodimus.

“Crawl over here,” Megatron ordered.

Ratchet walked over to Rung to give the mech back his ropes as Rodimus obeyed and crawled -rather quickly- over to Optimus and Megatron. “Time for the next show,” the medic murmured, grin matching Rung’s.

“Kid’s got potential,” Kup said with a nod toward the two Primes and former tyrant. “Gonna be a good night.”


End file.
